


Darkest Dreaming

by TriplePirouette



Series: (s)Aints [5]
Category: Operation: Endgame (2010), Ravenous (1999)
Genre: Cannibalism, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-19
Updated: 2012-10-19
Packaged: 2017-11-16 14:57:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriplePirouette/pseuds/TriplePirouette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hiero wakes up in Ives’ bed. Promises are made. Part 5 of my (s)Aaints series, events take place immediately after part 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkest Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Mentions of Cannibalism and sexual acts. I also feel compelled to add that I address Hiero’s religious beliefs here, there is no desire or intent to offend ANY religion or belief system.
> 
> This is for the minuscule corner of the Rumbelle fandom that has found love with the cannibal and the psychopath. You guys are AWESOME. Title is also the title of a song by David Sylvian.

Hierophant woke up alone, sore and itching and cold. She gathered the sheets around her, burying her face in the sent. Clean, warm, musky: Ives. She sighed, trying to hold back the memories as long as she could, but they overwhelmed her and she had to take long and slow deep breaths until she could stop shaking. She felt around the bed but it was cold, no warmth left to give her a clue as to where he was. She stretched, feeling the new skin on her back itch and pull. As much as she twisted and turned, she couldn’t get a good look at the scars from when she should have died.

She should have died. She very well may have for a moment there.

Hiero shivered. She had never been so close before, never even been near death. The occasional bad cut, a broken bone or dislocated joint- it was all part of her job but she’d never been at the brink of death. Thinking about it gave her a cold, hollow feeling that she didn’t like that crept through her limbs and made her feel small and trapped. She pulled the sheet tight in a fit of panic, hauling it from the military corners at the bottom of the mattress and wrapping it around herself as she stood, stumbling from the bed.

He’d lived in many places, her Ives, but it always startled her how… similar… they ended up being. Things were always nearly in the exact same place, the arrangement of the pre-furnished furniture the same, the rooms situated the same. Even though she’d never been in this place, this house, she still felt like she knew where she was going. She left the bedroom quietly, looking up and down the small hall. There were stairs, and a light coming from the bottom floor.

It was dark outside, not even moonlight or a streetlamp outside the window, but it didn’t bother her. She grasped the railing, holding it tight with one hand while the other held her sheet up, carefully descending. She followed the light through another small hallway to a small home office. She stopped at the door, staring.

He sat at the desk, a small lamp casting him in a warm glow as he read. He had mounds of papers spread out before him, his eyes flitting back and forth and sorting them every few seconds. He was so intent on his paperwork that he didn’t notice her, or pretended not to notice her more likely, and it gave her a moment of calm. He seemed like any other man in that moment: consumed with his work in the middle of the night, his threadbare t-shirt and dark flannel pants betraying nothing of his physique, betraying nothing of his nature.

She smiled. For just a second she could pretend that they were married, that this was one of a million nights they shared, that she hadn’t almost died and that neither one of them killed people. She could pretend they were just two regular people in love, and the fantasy made her ache.

They’d never quite gotten around to playing happy homemakers, but if there was ever anyone Hiero thought she had a chance to be happy with, it was Ives. In the past she’d only ever thought of having a future with a man if she changed, if she hid who she was, if she played a part. She hid nothing from this man, and he still seemed to care for her, to have a passion for her, to enjoy her company. It baffled her as much as it delighted her.

“Do you plan on staring at me all night or would you care to join me?” His eyes didn’t move from the paper in his hands, his body betraying nothing. If she hadn’t seen his mouth move, she would have thought she imagined his words. Hiero slipped in the room, her sheet dragging behind her as she came to rest beside him. Ives took a second, finishing a line she supposed, before he turned, reaching out and pulling her into his lap. He kissed her cheek, then her forehead, tucking her under his chin and arranging the sheet between them. “How are you feeling, love?”

She snuggled in deep, the warmth from his body seeping through the thin fabric and soothing her. “Itchy, but better.”

He pulled her close to look over her shoulder as his hand slipped over her back, carefully probing the new skin. “It’s slow, but healing. You might scar.”

She snuggled deep into his lap, the feel of his hands probing across her back soothing. “I don’t mind.” In his arms, she suddenly felt safer. She hadn’t known that was what she was searching for when she’d left his bed, but she could tell once she felt the tension drain from her his presence had been exactly what she needed.

He sighed, letting his fingers roam through her hair while his other hand wrapped over her knees, holding her tight. “I really wish you would mind, it would be so easy to fix.”

She shook her head, her hands fisting in his shirt. A long minute went by while she tried to figure out how to describe the feeling in her chest. Finally, she pulled back, looking him in the eyes. “Thank you. I don’t think I said it since… since… but thank you.” Her voice cracked, emotions welling up without warning.

He shushed her quietly, hugging her tight. “I told you I’d come, didn’t I?”

She looked up at him, confused. “Did… did you know?”

He laughed, kissing her cheeks and licking up the tears that leaked from her lashes. “Specifically? No. But I’ve had my share of dealings with the government. I know how they work, and I know it’s only a matter of time before it goes to hell, no matter what you’re doing.”

She kissed him, sharp and short and perfunctory before curling up back under his chin. “What am I going to do?”

He sighed heavily. Hiero knew that he understood better than most what kind of a situation she was in. He’d had to reinvent himself, he’d had to run, he’d had to disappear before. Just staying where they were for over a day was dangerous, but she couldn’t even think of leaving the house lest she be caught on a traffic camera or a security tape. She’d worked for one of the most powerful, and well hidden, parts of the government. There was no part of the country, of the world, that was out of their reach. If they found her, she would never be able to run far or fast enough. “That’s what I’ve been doing, love, looking for a place for us to go.” He picked up the papers before him, sifting through them with one hand, muttering about places and times, but she heard none of it. All she could do was stare at him.

It finally hit her, sitting there and listening to him plan, the niggling thought in the back of her mind finally taking shape her enough for her to understand what it was.

Ives loved her.

It was more than the fucking they’d done. They’d always been desperate and passionate and hot for one another. It was more than that he’d saved her. He’d come to her rescue more than once when things went bad fast. It was the way he saved her, the way he carried her, and cradled her, and called her ‘love’ with a deep timber in his voice instead of using her name. It was the dark look in his eyes and the fear for her that she’d never seen on his face before. It was the soft caress of his hand on her back as he held her, the apology before things hurt when he’d had to rip the cloth from her back.

It was that he’d been here, watching her, waiting for her, making sure she was safe. Now he was looking for a place for them to run. He’d used the word ‘us.’ He was going with her.

They’d always passed like ships in the night. Every few weeks a text message or a phone call: if they were close they’d hunt and fuck and spend a debauched weekend closed into some hotel or an apartment or even out in the middle of the woods. It was easy for her to pretend that he loved her, but the stark reality of their arrangement always hit her when she left.

When she had dreams about cuddling on the couch and watching old westerns, or dreams of a nice little house in the country with a very special smoke house out back, dreams of tiny little cannibal babies and eyelet lace curtains flowing out over white picket fences, she had to pull herself back. She had to remind herself of the arrangement, of the parameters. Of the risks they took every time they were together.

She spent five years living for the moments of the kill and the moments she was with Ives before she took the job here, another two had been spent on their contract killings, calling Ives to towns with odd names all across the United States. But he’d been here. He’d risked his life every day by settling down and hunting in one place, watching her from afar and tricking even her into thinking he was anywhere but a few miles away, waiting for the call that he knew would inevitably come, and he held her and cradled her and nursed her back to health.

Hiero knew she’d loved Ives long ago, the most perfect crazy cannibal to her dizzying psychopathic tendencies, but she never dreamed she was really anything more than a fun fuck for him, no matter what her fantasy life dreamed up for her.

She grabbed his chin lightly, turning his face down to hers. “Us?” she questioned, her eyes searching his for any clue. Any lie. Any reassurance.

He looked nervous, like he’d realized what he’d said for the first time, but he pressed his lips tight and nodded. “Yes. Us.”

Hiero kissed him, telling him stories through every movement of her lips. She tried to tell him about dreams of nights in watching American Idol and white picket fences, of dreams of stalking and killing and a dark little smokehouse behind an old, whitewashed victorian home. She tried to tell him in the only way she knew how that she loved him.

When he pulled away, it wasn’t to go far. He rested his forehead on hers, breathing just a little heavier than normal. “You scared me,” he told her gently, not trying to evoke anything but his fear.

Hiero let her hands snake up the back of his neck and through his hair. “And you saved me.”

His face scrunched up tightly, a hiss slipped from his lips and by the way he held her she worried for a second that he was in pain, but his words were the only pain in him as they came from his lips, deep and dark and a confession she never thought she’d ever hear. “I can’t… fucking hell I can’t live without you.” She rubbed against him, holding him tight as he clutched at her. “Nearly a hundred and fifty years and I’ve never… I’ve never had a friend, never mind a lover that I’d… cared about.”

Hiero could feel the tension in his body, the fear of his confession leaving his lips. His age startled her somewhat, but she’s always wondered and it occurred to her that she didn’t really even care. What she cared about was that he was holding her and confessing that he felt things for her. He was saying the words she’d dreamed of, fantasized about, but never thought she would ever hear. “Ives…” she tried to calm him, her hands playing over his shoulders, but he shook his head and pressed his forehead to hers.

“No, Hiero, my beautiful little assassin.” He kissed her nose, the pain turning to sadness. “You can’t understand. I didn’t mean to love you.” His breath was ragged, his eyes desperately searched hers. “I didn’t mean to get attached to you so dearly. I wanted a friend, not… not this.”

Her heart skipped a beat, changing it’s rhythm and pounding in her chest. She couldn’t help but shrink away from him. “You don’t want it?”

His hands caught her face, holding her to him as he shook his head. “No, I do want it, that’s the problem. I didn’t know I wanted it, not like this. I wanted a friend, a lover, but… I never wanted someone I loved, someone who wasn’t disposable. Hiero, you are so much more to me than a friend that I fuck. When I found you the other day and I thought you were dead-” His voice cracked and he closed his eyes.

Hiero could feel the tears falling over her cheeks as she pulled him close, shifting to sit up tall and cradle him to her chest as he finally, finally fell apart with silent sobs. His arms clamped around her waist like iron, but she didn’t care. She had him and he had her and in that moment, she could believe that was enough. She could believe, like she’s always wanted to, that love could be enough. He’s older than he had any right to be, and she’s alive. If this second chance for them wasn’t sent to her by God, then she would freely admit she had no use for religion. Why else would they be right here, right now? Why would they have gone through the loss and the suffering and the differences only to lose it all in the end?

This was her chance, her divine intervention. “I’ve loved you,” she whispered into his hair, emotion choking her voice, “for ages now. I couldn’t… I couldn’t ever imagine that you’d love me back.”

“How can you love me?” he asked, his voice broken and rough. “How can you know what I am and love me?”

She stroked through his long hair, her fingertips tracing over his sideburns and into his beard and back again. “How can you know who I am and love me?” Hiero asked softly, not nearly as broken but just as in awe. “How did we find each other in a world full of people? How are these things possible? God. God sent you to me.”

He wrapped his arms tightly around her, his hands roaming firmly as his lips dropped little kisses over her collarbones. “No, no… you are certainly an angel, my love. One I don’t deserve. Can you forgive me? Can you pray for me?” His kisses mingled with his salty tears, leaving moist trails over her skin as he moved up the side of her neck.

Hiero leaned away from him, using the back of the chair as leverage to straddle his hips before she sat and took his hands in hers. She laced their fingers together, the sheet falling away to pool around her hips and leave her chest bare to him. “Have you done anything you’re sorry for?” She asked slowly, kissing the tears from his cheeks.

“I didn’t protect you.” He looked at her like he might break, but she moved back to her ministrations.

Hiero licked down his cheek and kissed down his beard, avoiding his lips as his hands gripped hers tightly. “You saved me. There is no failure there. Have you done anything you’re sorry for?”

He dropped his head away from her kisses, pulling away from her touch. “No.” His voice was cold and resigned, waiting for her to turn, to leave him.

She took his hands in hers again, pulling them tight to her chest as she whispered in his ear. “Then you need not seek forgiveness.” She let go of his hands, smiling when they fell to her chest instead of away from her body. She pressed herself closer, wrapping her arms around his shoulders just as he did to her but a few hours ago. “Do you remember when we first met?” He nodded into her shoulder. “Even then I knew that we were blessed by God. I remember watching you and thinking that He couldn’t have sent me a more perfect man. You were so strong, so alive, and so direct. When you held that man’s head and broke his neck with the one snap… You can’t know how I felt in that moment watching you. When you took me, right there on the couch over his body, darlin’, I couldn’t describe it to you.”

He moaned, but only held her tighter, slipping his arms around her once again. She kissed just below his ear, letting her lips play through the beard hairs there. “You don’t need forgiveness, I don’t need forgiveness. This is who He’s made us to be, and He’s made us for each other. I love you, Ives.” She started to kiss down his jaw, each kiss a little longer, a little warmer, a little more insistent between her words. “I love the way you look. I love the way you speak. And fight. I love the way you kill. I love the way you eat. I love the way you don’t care that I won’t eat flesh unless I have to.” She took his lips softly with hers for a long moment, her voice gentle as she murmured into his mouth. “I love the way you take care of me.”

She kissed him again, her tongue darting out to lick his lip. “Take care of me now, Ives.” She ground her hips down as he finally, finally responded to her kiss. She needed him now. She had felt it bubbling up in her this whole time: she felt empty and she needed him to fill her.

They had never been about words, actions always meant so much more for them. From the first second she knew him, they said infinitely more with their bodies and the things they did than they ever did in sentences. But those words, tonight’s words, had to be said. Now that they were, though, she needed his actions. She needed to feel at one with him, she needed to feel connected. She needed to feel whole and true and  _loved_  by him in the way that had become so familiar to her for so long now. She needed his body, his passion, his blood to take over hers and she would know, in those moments, if all their words had been true.

His tongue met hers, warm and slick and so very, very familiar. He hadn’t kissed her, not properly yet, and she didn’t think they’d ever gone this long without kissing before. The physical side of their relationship was part of what defined them. They hunted and they fucked. They worked and they fucked. If she wasn’t in his arms, his mouth ravishing hers nearly the second they saw one another, she didn’t feel right. But it had been days, days since he’d saved her and this, this was their real first kiss. It was love and tragedy and emotion and she felt like if his lips left hers she would never be able to breathe again.

He finally met her, kiss for kiss, his passion growing along with the hardness she could feel between her legs. He reached out behind her, sliding the chair back toward desk, standing and siting her hips on it. She bit his lip and moaned as fresh blood spilled out, mingling in their kiss.

She felt the shift in him, felt the way his muscles contracted under her touch as he tore at the sheet between them, tossing it half behind her and half on the floor. She pressed her hands up his sides, palms flat over his ribs and under his shirt, pulling away long enough just to slip it off over his head. She didn’t dare open her eyes, she didn’t dare even look, but she felt whole again as soon as his lips found hers, nibbling and sucking and making them one glorious being.

It was fast. He had her on her back and was sheathed deep inside her before she knew it, and she roared with satisfaction deep in her throat. Each stoke, each thrust felt like a new beginning: a merging and a changing and a rebirth of them together. His mouth abandoned hers and his teeth latched on to her shoulder, digging but not breaking the skin. At some point he climbed up on the desk with her, his knees pressing her forward, his arms lifting her hips, the papers crumpling under her and pens falling to the floor. The lamp fell with a crash and a sizzle, the bulb broken leaving them in darkness.

They were better in darkness. They were creatures of the night, beings that weren’t forged in God’s Holy light, but in his need for righteousness and revenge that got lost in newer interpretations of His word. Their God was a being that had just as much potential to love as to be cruel, as they did. Two sides: right and wrong, day and night, peace and war, they smiled politely then bared their teeth when the world turned it’s back.

She came screaming his name, biting into his shoulder and lapping at the warm blood that spilled onto her tongue as he thrust into her harder, erratic in his own need for release. She clutched at him, her body tight and tired and far too sensitive as her orgasm shuttered into another peak, leaving her shaking under him as he lost control and grunted his release into her. He started to pull away but she held him tighter.

Breathless, he laughed against her collarbone. “We’re on a desk, Hiero.”

She joined him with a light laugh, stroking her hands through his hair, setting it right and combing the knots she put in it out with her nails. “I know. I just… don’t want to let go yet.”

He kissed her collarbone, long, open, wet kisses up the side of her neck, behind her ear and across her cheek until he reached her lips. As he kissed her he slipped his legs away, carefully reaching for the floor with his toes and dragging her body with him with his arms.

He lifted her, waiting until she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck before he started moving, picking his way through the debris they’d scattered on the floor. She giggled, looking over his shoulder. “We made a mess!”

He took a playful nip at her shoulder, pressing her back against the wall next to the door. “We often do.” He kissed her hungrily, his tongue sliding against hers as he pressed a hand to the wall behind her head. She stopped kissing back, though, and he pulled away, teasing her nose with his until she looked at him. “What?”

“I’ve made a mess this time, have’t I?” She couldn’t help the pain in her voice, the feeling of loss and disappointment. She knew her eyes showed the pain of the past few days. She’d been able to forget for just a moment, his body in and around hers and taking away everything but the two of them, but now it flooded back. They were going to have to run and hide, and it was all her fault.

“No,” He whispered. “They have.”

She snuggled closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder as he lifted her hips a bit higher, pulling away from the wall and padding through the hall back towards the bedroom. “How will I clean it up?” Hiero really couldn’t help the way her voice sounded, though she had hoped it would have come out stronger than the tiny, thready sound she’d made. He dropped a kiss on her shoulder and he carried her up the stairs, his hands squeezing rhythmically to try to calm her as he held her tight. Her emotions turned on a dime, from fearful to happy to horny at a second’s notice, and now she was full of fear and sadness that couldn’t be quelled or tempered by the pleasure of just a few minutes past.

He carefully laid her on the bed, crawling over her until he was on his side and pulled her tight to him. “With my help. We’ll do it together.”

Sleep claimed her quickly in the dark room with the blanket wrapped back around her and his heart beating beneath her ear as his hands calmed the itching of the new skin on her back. All she felt was his warmth wrapped around her and she believed him, whole heartedly. If he was with her, they couldn’t be beat.


End file.
